Hurt
by Undertaker Lau
Summary: Harry has been back at the Dursleys for some time for the summer holidays and is on the verge of breaking down. The abuse was too much. Many things were too much for a young boy to bear on his shoulders. Now that Harry is locked in his room, the dam breaks and his defences are down. (Abusive!Dursleys though no depiction, a bit of Depressed!Harry too, ANGST & HURT, Complete.)


Disclaimer : I own nothing of this except the narration. The characters and their universe all belong to their owners. I am not making money with this – I mean, come on it'd be ridiculous, right? … Please don't sue me, I'm properly returning the characters once I'm finished with them. Even give them chocolate to make them feel better. Not that I'm a Dementor. Anyway !

Rating : K+ I suppose?

Blahblah: I wrote this oneshot with the mind-frame that Harry was already at Hogwarts given he has a room instead of the cupboard. It's just one of these summers. No specific year though, feel free to chose one for yourself and if you want, tell me 'cause I'll be curious of which one you picked if you do. :)

As always, ffnet just throws away some of the way I am arranging the text, so I hope it turns out alright. Voluntarily written in a certain way, so it may feel odd at first?

Also, the person in charge of proof reading my stories is currently unavailable, so any mistakes will be his fault anyway –happily throwing him under the bus-. On with it!

**Warning :** Abuse!Dursleys, probably depressed!Harry, very mild swears. **If you are not at ease with ANY of these topics,** **do NOT read**.

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Hurt

He could hear the voices downstairs, they rang clear in the air, the walls not even muffling what was said, not even dulling the intonations. He shuddered and folded himself into as small a ball as he could be on his bed against the wall. The Dursleys were dowstairs having tea with some neighbours. He knew he wouldn't come up in the conversation but after all the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his family, just _hearing_ them talk made him wince and want to curl up somewhere out of sight. They had hurt him, hurt him so much. Again and again. He had forgiven them and there had been reasons for the abuse. Bad choices, words that displeased them, problems festering and leading to an inevitable thrashing session. Common occurrence by now at 4 Privet Drive. He had deserved them. It was okay. He was okay now. The voices, they were not hurting him now, so it was fine. He held his breath as they quieted for a moment, not daring so much as breathe in case they would _somehow_ hear him. It could anger them. He should not anger them. Angering them led to hurt and hurt and more and more hurt. Hurting. Goddamnit, did it hurt.

The discussion started again and Harry exhaled slowly. Talking, talking, they were talking. He could hear them. Hearing them unsettled him. The voices, they had hurt him countless times before and would again if he did not behave. Behave, he had to behave. Be good, or at least try not to be too much of a disappointment. Worthless waste of space, food and air. _Freak_. Behave, behave, behave, _he had to_.

Harry craddled his head between his hands, locking it between his drawn up knees. He started rocking back and forth against the walls. The one on his right brushed against his body while the one he was backed up against seemed to be rolling along his spine as he moved. He started trembling. Trembling wasn't good. Not good at all. He had to get it under control. The voices could come fetch him at any moment. He could not let them witness his disarray. It was fine. He was fine. Stop trembling. Stop this. Stop. This. _Now_.

The boy clutched his head harder in his fingers. It was imperative that he stopped his shaking. The shaking was not good. No, no. Not good. It led to more shaking, losing his grip on his limbs, his muscles not listening to what his brain was screaming at them. STOP SHAKING! He had to. Had to. It would spiral down to dread clutching his stomach and working its dead frozen claws up to his chest. No, no, it had to stop. Had to, had to. IT HAD TO!

The need to scream surfaced again. His eyes stung from tears unshed as he blinked them back and scrunched his eyes closed. _Nononononono_. Crying and trembling were not good. So not very good. He would never be able to stop them at a moment's notice. Not the both of them. One, he could handle, two however... Two was pushing his feeble luck.

His breathing would soon get away from him, if it continued. It was a path he was now familiar with as he had walked it many times. He would pant and panic, wishing to God to be allowed to gulp oxygen down in his body. It would be worse and worse, each passing second, adding to how crushing it felt not to able to bring air in his lungs. It would burn. Burn. _Burn_. Not good. Not good at all.

He tried to rock himself some more, but his need to scream, to voice out his gut-wrenching pain, voice out the black abyss in his entrails, made him double over. He couldn't. Making so much as a sound was prohibited. The voices had been very, _very_ clear when they'd said it. The way they spat this order allowed Harry to understand the silent threats hovering over him if he did not keep himself in check. It would be worse than terrible if it happened when the Dursleys were having guests over.

His stomach clenched around itself, trying to get the much needed relieving wail out of his lips. Couldn't. Couldn't. Not allowed to make a sound. His throat felt like it was burning and as if a snake had slithered its way around it and held it oh-so-tightly in its coils, constricting. He whimpered. Barely more than a muffled noise but the dread came back instantly. Stilling his movements, his eyes darted to the door. Had they heard? Would they come now or later? Did they know?

The voices were still talking downstairs. Unnoticed, then. Good. That was good. Harry mentally patted his head to congratulate himself. _Good boy_. He clamped both his hands on his mouth, though. Couldn't be caught doing it again. They could have heard! It would have hurt. Hurt real bad. He was fine, though. He was fine now. Fine.

Concentrating on fighting back his fear and controlling each and every muscles of his body down into submission, Harry pressed his elbows into his flesh. Focus. Focus. Focusing was good. It helped. Help. It had to help. Nobody would help or soothe the hurt done to him, nobody would hug it better, nobody would wipe his tears. He could do it himself. No one else would. So the job befell on him. It was fine. He was okay. Harry was fine. Fine. Fine. _I'm fine_.

Jumping out of his skin when he heard the voices say goodbye to the neighbors, Harry felt like lead had been spelled in his body. His trembling stopped, he unclenched his hands, slowly unfurled his body so he would look like he had just been sitting on his bed, his back straight and his eyes downcast. His head was clear again. He needed it to be. Harry had to. Had to... The voices would soon come over to order him to clean up. They couldn't know. They could not. So he stilled and breathed deeply and it hurt. It hurt so much. SO DAMN MUCH.

But he was fine now. For now, it was alright. He had to focus on now, and now... Now was good. Now did not hurt like it would hurt later on.

Now, Harry was alright. _For now._

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*cough cough*

Everybody fine? Yeah? Here, some chocolate for you too.

Sooo... Been a pleasure to have you over, please feel free to give me your input about this story: angsty enough? No? Want to hug Harry? Let me know! See ya! x


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